The Good Little Black Dress. And The Bad One.

I bought a little black dress for my 40th birthday. My daughter was 10, my son, 7. When you have children that age, especially if you have been home full-time for a while, and gotten involved in your kids’ school, you will probably find yourself in a large community. Who may want to have a party. Small children will do that to you.

We held mine in the backyard. My family paid to have it catered, and for a new lawn. As a present, not random extravagance. I bought pink lawn flamingos as decor. We set up a full bar in the French doors that led from bedroom to patio. All us parents had a wild time. 70 people’s worth of a what counts as a wild time in the suburban world in which I live.

The dress, Blumarine. I bought it in the Stanford Shopping Center. Accompanied by Jennifer Montana. Wife of Joe Montana, fabled quarterback of the 49’ers. I am not kidding.

I didn’t know Mrs. Montana. I still don’t. But on the day I bought this dress, she and Joe had been shopping. She stood in the store as I modeled my potential purchase. She was remarkably beautiful, and completely unassuming. Amused. I worried the dress was too short. “”Oh,” she said, “No. Shorter.” “But it’s my 40th birthday, ” I said. “Then even shorter,” said Jennifer. By this point Joe had joined her. He stood, tall, quiet, and shy, by the rack of dresses. I don’t remember whether he agreed on the hemline. But the party was wild fun. And I loved this dress and its little pearl “B” until threads began to pop out of the little black boucle.

8 years later, my daughter was in the senior fashion show at her high school. This is the same high school where I did battle with trophy wives over my son’s graduation. A secret battle that I am sure no one but me noticed. The fashion show was a similar situation. I had nothing to wear. Nothing appropriate.

The morning of the event I went shopping in a rush. That was the year I traveled to China 7 or 8 times and I had no time for shopping. Mistake #1. I went to Wilkes Bashford, a bastion of too-cool-for-school. Mistake #2. I listened to the fabulous salesman tell me I looked fabulous in a fabulous Monique Lhullier when I knew I didn’t. Mistake #3. The most pernicious. Never let anyone convince you of something you know to be untrue.

Oh, I dressed up and wore a pair of excruciatingly painful, beautifully beaded, Rene Caovilla pumps, along with some inherited diamonds, but I had wasted my not-inconsequential amount of money. I was too uncomfortable to win that particular private battle. Battles, even when fought on foreign soil, have to be won on one’s own terms.

I do better in structured clothing. I like darts. I’m sturdy that way. The dress didn’t suit me. What a crime. To buy an expensive little black dress I rarely wear. And shoes that hurt so much I have given them to my 22-year old daughter.If only Jennifer had been there. I’m sure she would have told me the truth. All I know now is that I do, in fact, need a new little black dress. Need being, of course, broadly defined. After all, navy blue has its appeal.

I can't get past the seams and finishing on the Monique Lhuillier dress. My big garment fixation is that the inside must be as nice as the outside. I do love your stories though. They have lovely seams.

It's a mystery to me. I have two almost identical LBDs. Both are plain sleeveless sheaths and end right above the knee. The expensive Agnes B one makes me look fat. (Is it the thicker cotton fabric? Turtleneck collar? Why? Why?) A cheap one from a local brand called Giordano always looks great. (Polyester. Boat-neck collar). I had a Diane von Furstenberg black wrap dress that I wore until it was visibly stained and I threw it away. (How does black manage to stain?) I also have a BCBG LBD that has all sorts of floaty bits, folds and ruffles. Disaster. The ruffles once got caught in my control-top boy-short underwear! I'm like you, LPC, I need structure in my life. My body needs darts and waists that go in. I couldn't live without LBDs. It's like I'm constantly dressing for a funeral.

PS: re navy, no. Navy is too sober, too businesslike to be an LBD candidate. No one would caress the inside of a knee of a woman wearing a navy dress after 5. I can see plum, some of the luminous grays, but not navy. Navy at night has to be a long dress, in something flou- like chiffon- or you will just look sad.

I've had a handful of navy dresses, one couture. Each made me feel businesslike, smart, efficient, and in control. That's not the way I want to feel in a cocktail dres.

Those are two lovely dresses. I got married in my LBD, some eighteen years ago now. (And I was excited to note that I've been to the Stanford shopping center of which you write.) Love, love, love Palo Alto.

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Am I serious? Privilege? Yes. At least when I'm not joking. While privilege can teach you what color shoes to wear with navy blue, nothing beats the privilege of being alive. So let's talk style, in the context of culture. Let's focus on the over-50. For more, please go here. Or you can reach me at my email: skyepeale@yahoo.com. That's the name I wanted to be called when I was 16. Ah. 16....